


Acquaintances and Assumptions

by butterflyacid



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Psychopaths, Angst, Everyone Has Issues, Gangsters, Multi, Violence, other relationships and characters to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyacid/pseuds/butterflyacid
Summary: "Beating up a good guy is violence. Beating up a bad guy is justice."- the criminal/police au no-one asked for





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, everyone! this is my first ao3 fic. it's based heavily off the kdrama, bad guys. you don't need to have watched the kdrama to read this, because i have changed up a lot of the plot quite considerably. please be kind to me, and enjoy reading!

“Hello, my name is Minhyung Lee, also known as Mark Lee. I’m the youngest homicide detective at this station in Seoul. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

The young detective bowed deeply for the camera, coming back up with a tight smile pulled over his lips.  
“Did that sound okay?” He asked through gritted teeth, the smile wobbling ever-so-slightly.

 

An irritated huff was heard from behind the camera. “Yes, Mark, it was fine. Can we carry on now?”

 

Mark cleared his throat, nodding quickly. “Yeah, uh, of course.” He sucked in a deep breath, before continuing.

 

“A lot of people want to know why I became a detective… there’s a lot of reasons,” Mark began to explain, shifting slightly in his seat. “Because I want to protect people, because I feel called to it, and because my brother is also in the police force.”

 

He laughed a little, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “A lot of people don’t like to admit that they’re proud to follow in their sibling’s footsteps. But I am. With a job like this, it’s hard not to be proud.”

 

“Aren’t you worried about being a detective? A lot of people think it’s a very daunting and dangerous job.” Asked the voice behind the camera.

 

Scratching the back of his neck, Mark nodded. “It is. And yeah, it’s pretty scary. But if everyone was afraid of becoming a detective, then who would protect our families?”

 

He leant forwards, propping his elbows onto his knees and his chin upon his clasped hands. “When you become a detective, you encounter all kinds of criminals. Sometimes, you have to risk your life to catch them. When you’re running after the most dangerous criminals in South Korea, you can’t help but think of your family, and your co-workers. The thought of never seeing them again creates the most stomach-churning, gut-wrenching feeling you can imagine.” Sighing, he lets his head drop on top of his hands.

 

After a moment, he looks back up into the camera. “But, for the sake of our country and people, we must keep running.”

 

-

 

“Right now, we’re attempting to track down a serial killer who has been terrorizing our streets for almost a year,” Mark tells the camera. “The criminal picks any random passer-by on the street, as long as it’s raining and dark outside.”

 

“Could this be considered a stake-out?” The camera-man’s decidedly tired voice asked.

 

Mark nodded, “Yes, definitely. This area is known for being dangerous, and there is a chance we could get some information from here.”

 

Then silence fell between the two men. Mark shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat of his second-hand car, unsure of what to say. They were parked at an intersection of two alleyways in a residential area and had been there for almost two hours with little action or movement of any type. He cursed himself for taking on the task of filming a mini-documentary about the Seoul Police Force, although he knew that if it was received well, he would get major brownie points back at the station.

 

The camera man seemed frustrated too; sitting in a too-small car with an awkward, young detective and a too-big camera, in the middle of the night while it’s pouring with rain didn’t seem to be his cup of tea. He hadn’t said much the whole day – just prompted Mark when he felt it was needed – and had spent most of his time glowering at Mark to keep talking, presumably so he wouldn’t have to edit as much footage later on. Mark wasn’t entirely sure why he’d even taken the job in the first place.

 

“Maybe it’s the same for him,” thought Mark, picking at the lining of his steering wheel. “Maybe he’ll get big brownie points for doing this too. He might even be in consideration for a promotion.”

 

He was so distracted by this thought that he almost didn’t see a young woman outside, through his windscreen wipers, hurriedly walking home.

 

“Look!” He exclaimed softly – although lowering his voice was almost totally unnecessary as they were still in the car – and leaned forwards in his seat, squinting his eyes to try and see better. The camera man whirled round, making sure to catch it on tape. They were both waiting for something – to see someone trailing after the woman, trying to claim another victim.

 

Lo and behold – a short person, dressed from head to toe in black, was closely tailing her. Both men in the car waited with baited breath.

 

And then they saw the knife.

 

Mark swore loudly, hands flying to the door handle. He half-fell out of the door, and he could hear the camera man calling after him, but he was running before he could stop himself.

 

He tore up the alleyway, trying to gain on the hooded figure. It wasn’t long until his footsteps could be heard, and both the criminal and victim turned around. The woman shrieked in horror, and fell to the ground, cowering against a house.

 

The killer took one look at Mark and started running.

 

“Stop, you asshole!” Mark yelled, not even stopping for breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Vaguely, he was aware of the camera man behind him, but he wasn’t about to stop for some ridiculous documentary. Real people’s lives were on the line here, and he couldn’t afford to be slowed down.

 

Mark almost fell at least three times – the heavy rain was a deterrent, as it made the residential area’s cobblestones incredibly slippery, and Mark could almost feel the bruises forming from where he used walls and lampposts to keep himself upright. He was only a few paces behind his target, and as he rounded a corner, he felt almost certain that he was going to catch the most dangerous serial killer that Seoul Police Force had dealt with in over ten years.

 

What he didn’t expect was for the killer to turn on him. After tumbling down some uneven, slippery steps, the criminal turned, wielding the knife.

 

Mark cried out, throwing his arms out in an attempt to push the killer away, but to no avail. The hooded figure grabbed Mark by the neck and yanked him close, the knife grasped tightly in his – the killer was male, Mark’s sub-conscious noted – other hand.

 

Then the knife hit home – into Mark’s abdomen. All of the air was knocked out of him, he couldn’t even cry out. He felt the knife leave, then enter again. After the knife was pulled out for a second time, the shock set in, and he felt himself shutting down. He was aware that the knife entered at least twice more, but his brain felt too cloudy to register it.

 

It felt like hours before the hooded man released his grip on his neck, and Mark slid to the ground, his head hitting the wet stones quite hard. He was panting, trying to stay awake.

 

His surroundings began to feel quieter, softer, fuzzier, and he almost didn’t hear the camera man yelling out his name. His eyes began to grow heavy, as he thought about the woman. He hoped she was okay. He hoped she would move away from this area, and never come back

 

As the camera man bent over him, shaking his shoulders fiercely, desperately asking him to stay awake as he called for an ambulance, Mark thought about his brother. He hoped that he wouldn’t be too disappointed in him. He tried his best, he really did. But the killer had gotten away.

 

As the world grew dark around him, Mark hoped that his brother would be able to catch the killer. He hoped it wasn’t too greedy to ask for justice.

 

-

 

“The city is in shock over the news of Detective Lee’s death. He was murdered while chasing a suspect, and his colleagues have relayed how eager, determined, loyal and kind he was. Many people were familiar with him, as he had a love for the public and keeping the people of Seoul safe. It is safe to say that many will mourn him…”

 

Jaehyun couldn’t bare to listen to the radio report. He hit the power button, trying to focus on breathing evenly. He’d spent the last 20 minutes in the bathroom, after excusing himself from his brother’s wake. He’d talked to families of victims, colleagues, and even people who’d never met his brother, people just wanting to pay their respects to an officer who lost his life trying to protect the city.

 

He could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate again, and he braced himself on the sink in the little dingy bathroom. The tears began prickling in his eyes, and he dropped his head down, his chin hitting his chest. He knew he was thinking too much; he’d promised himself not to think too much, but he just couldn’t help it. He knew that at some point, he’d have to go out and face the rest of the people still mourning. He was supposed to be a superintendent, one of the best and youngest in Seoul. But here he was, hyperventilating in the bathroom of his brother’s funeral hall.

 

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, straightening up again, smoothing out his suit. He saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and for a second, he was surprised. He had dark circles under his eyes, he was paler than usual, and his hair was unkempt. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. “Time to go.”

 

When he walked back into the funeral hall, there was less of a crowd. Some colleagues were still littering round, talking to people whose cases they had worked on. The pile of presents and letters had grown considerably since he left. He sighed softly; it had been a long process.

 

He took a seat beside his brother’s portrait, and closed his eyes. He was mindful of the fact that the woman his brother had died saving had been sitting in the funeral hall since it opened. He could still hear her crying, and decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

He rose from his seat, and knelt before her. She looked up at him, hiccupping, her face red and blotchy. He tried to manage a comforting smile, cutting her off when she began to babble about how sorry she was.

 

“Mark – no, Detective Lee made the choice to save you. You shouldn’t apologise for other people’s actions.” Jaehyun said softly, clasping his hands together in front of him. The woman nodded twice, rubbing her face, and bowing deeply before him. He waited for her to rise, before he stood up.

 

He stretched his arms out, feeling his muscles contract. He took a sweeping glance at the hall, seeing maybe eight or nine people still talking quietly amongst themselves.

 

Then, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at the doorway, and rubbed his eyes, wondering if his sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes, the person in the doorway remained the same.

 

Jaehyun was momentarily frozen as they started walking towards him.

 

“Hello, Jaehyun,” the person said softly. “I’m very sorry to hear about your brother, I know he was a good kid.”

 

Jaehyun felt like he was in shock. “Taeyong, what- what are you doing here?”

 

His old friend smiled, his eyes downcast. “I came to see you, of course.”

 

Jaehyun felt like he was in slow-motion, while the rest of the world moved at normal speed. Then he remembered the last time he’d met with Taeyong.

 

“Taeyong, you – “

 

He was cut off by Taeyong pulling him into a hug. It felt so familiar – Taeyong’s light brown hair tickling his neck, his slightly smaller frame slotting into Jaehyun’s larger one perfectly. “Please don’t say anything,” he murmured into  
Jaehyun’s ear. “Just let me help you.”

 

Pulling back, Jaehyun stared into Taeyong’s eyes, feeling completely out of the loop. Taeyong took pity on Jaehyun’s bewildered state and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small white card, which he gave to Jaehyun. There were no words printed on it, just a string of numbers that Jaehyun assumed was a phone number.

 

“Call me after the funeral ends,” Taeyong instructed, shoving his hands in his pockets. Slowly, dumbly, Jaehyun nodded his head. Seemingly pleased with that reaction, Taeyong patted him on the shoulder, turned, and left the hall, while Jaehyun stared at the card, still feeling completely dumbfounded.

 

-

 

The funeral felt as if it was never going to end. The image of the mourning civilians Jaehyun had seen would be  
imprinted on his brain forever. But after the funeral had ended, Jaehyun wasn’t sure on what to do next. He still had Taeyong’s card, but every time he took it out of his pocket, it felt heavy, and he could never bring himself to dial the number.

 

He’d been given a leave of absence, which was unusual for the police force, but he supposed that the public would start a riot if he was made to go into work. But that mean that he spent most mornings laying in bed, trying to talk himself into getting up. Some days he would, some days he wouldn’t.

 

Mark had moved out several months before – well, several months before he’d stopped living altogether – but somehow, the apartment still felt empty. For this first dew days, Jaehyun spent his time awake shuffling around, trying to avoid contact with anything that reminded him of Mark. But as time went on, he realised he couldn’t stay in his room, the only place that didn’t remind him of Mark, forever. And slowly, he got a little more used to it.

 

He tried not to think about Mark too much, but many nights he cried, remembering his younger brother, who was fiercely loyal, passionate, and dumbly brave. He got letters of condolence almost everyday for a week, and each one opened up the wound more. It felt like an endless cycle of denial, grief, anger, and acceptance. He was so physically exhausted by this constant loop that he spent most days in bed, or in his room, and couldn’t bring himself to contact anyone.

 

On his last morning of his absence, he convinced himself to get up. Slowly, he got out of bed, turned on his TV, and started to make himself breakfast. As he sat down, the news played an interview with the Korean police force. One of Jaehyun’s collegues, Inspector Kim Doyoung, was leading the interview, and Jaehyun couldn’t help but smile. Doyoung was a little older than him, and very ambitious, and had one of the stoniest resting-bitch-faces Jaehyun had ever witnessed.

 

He had very little patience for the interviewer asking the questions, shutting him down when he asked about rumours. However, after a quip about unable to catch violent, antisocial criminals, Doyoung’s façade cracked.

 

“Yes, it is true that we are struggling to catch these psychopathic criminals with our current forces. It is, of course, our aim to protect the civilians of this city, and we are working on a plan to use our forces and resources more effectively.” Doyoung said, as if he was reading off a script. For all the public knew, he could’ve been, but Jaehyun knew that Doyoung had no time to read scripts, and would much rather say exactly what he thought.

 

Jaehyun smiled at this thought, then was suddenly struck by realisation. He scrambled up from his breakfast and began rummaging through his pockets. In his jean pocket, he found the small, white card he’d been looking for.

 

His hands were shaking as he dialled the number Taeyong had given him – he wasn’t sure whether it was because of nerves or excitement. He held his breath as he waited for Taeyong to pick up.

 

The dialling stopped, and Jaehyun froze. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought past the point of calling Taeyong. Was this even Taeyong’s number? Before he could worry himself into insanity, he blurted out “Hello?” When there was no response, he began to panic further, but carried on talking. “Is this Taeyong? It’s Jaehyun, you gave me this number at my brothers – “

 

“Do you want to meet up?” Taeyong’s voice filtered through the phone, soft and low, clearly just woken up. Jaehyun repressed a shiver, and tried to form a coherent sentence.

 

“What? I mean, uh, yeah, sure, where?” Jaehyun stuttered. He could feel his face getting warmer as he embarrassed himself in front of his old friend.

 

“The bar we used to go to. You know where. 6pm, tonight,” Taeyong said simply, then hung up. Jaehyun couldn’t help but feel a little miffed; he hadn’t spoken to Taeyong in over two years, and now all of a sudden, he was demanding to meet up with him. But, like always, he trusted Taeyong. Taeyong had a plan. He wouldn’t have turned up to Mark’s wake without one.

 

He threw his phone onto his bed and groaned. Taeyong had a plan, yes, but what would it involve? Taeyong’s plans were never made for the faint-hearted. But, he was always one step ahead of everyone else. Sometimes even more than that.

 

And this time, Taeyong needed Jaehyun.

 

-

 

The bar was quiet. That was the feature that had originally drawn Taeyong and Jaehyun to it in the first place. It looked run-down from the outside, and didn’t fare much better on the inside, with a few small, wooden tables. There weren’t many staff members, it was quiet, and everyone minded their own business. It was the perfect place to discuss anything of any legality.

 

Jaehyun couldn’t help staring at the walls – he hadn’t been here since he’d last seen Taeyong. It was obvious where posters and paintings had been hung on the walls to try and hide where the paint was peeling off them. Taeyong was doing the same, examining the area, but not for the same reasons as Jaehyun. He was watching out for anyone or anything listening, which was a tell-tale sign of what he was about to discuss.

 

The pair were sat at one of the few tables in the bar. The table legs were uneven, and the wooden chairs felt as if they were about to give way at any minute. But, if Taeyong approved of the bar, it was clean enough, and Jaehyun wasn’t going to complain.

 

Neither of them had said anything since they arrived. The older man was already sitting at their usual table when he'd arrived, and had ordered their old usual drinks; one bottle of beer for himself, and one bottle of cheongju for Jaehyun. Jaehyun didn’t have the heart to tell him that his taste had changed, and he now preferred soju.

 

They sat in silence, until Jaehyun couldn’t take it any longer, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Why are we here, Taeyong? You have a plan, don’t you?”

 

For a moment, Taeyong said nothing, simply took another sip of his drink while he watched Jaehyun carefully.

 

The quietness was beginning to frustrate Jaehyun. He’d arrived at the bar excited yet apprehensive, but since Taeyong seemed to be pulling the silent treatment, his mood had gone sour quickly.

 

“Is this about Mark?” Jaehyun tried again. “Is it about Donghy-“

 

“Please don’t say his name,” Taeyong whispered, surprising Jaehyun with how broken he seemed. Jaehyun began to feel a little guilty for bringing the topic up, but they hadn’t seen each other for so long and Jaehyun had no idea where Taeyong stood on the subject.

 

The duo descended into silence again, before Taeyong spoke up.

 

“It’s about the police force,” He began, sitting back in his chair. Jaehyun shifted, eager.

 

“You want to come back?”

 

“Since… that incident, I haven’t been allowed back. But because of… recent events,” Taeyong said carefully, “the commissioner has invited me back. But on very specific terms.”

 

Jaehyun nodded, mulling it over. “Is this to do with that interview that was broadcasted this morning?”

 

Taeyong cracked a smile. “Yes. But I don’t know how much the public will agree with it.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Jaehyun leaned back. "What do you mean?" A million ideas were flashing through his head, each one seeming more likely, yet less likely at the same time.

 

Taeyong's smile grew. "You have to tell me you'll do it first. I can't tell you everything, then have you back out at the last second." Suddenly, he was very close to Jaehyun's face, leaning over the table that separated them. Jaehyun could feel the redness growing on his face, as Taeyong whispered into his ear. "It's top secret."

 

When Taeyong didn't pull away immediately, Jaehyun cleared his throat loudly, and decidedly avoided eye contact with Taeyong as he sat back down.

 

"Fine. I'm in. Pinky promise, or whatever," he snapped, but there was no bit to his words.

 

Taeyong's growing smile broke into a full grin as he heard those words. "Really?" His voice was full of joy, like a kid on Christmas Day. The sight of it almost made Jaehyun smile back, before catching himself. He was still flustered by how close Taeyong had gotten to him, and he felt a little peeved that Taeyong was so casual about it.

 

"Yeah, I said, 'pinky promise' and everything," Jaehyun attempted to scowl. "Weren't you listening?"

 

Taeyong shrugged, the smile slipping from his face. "I guess I wasn't expecting you to accept so readily." His voice seemed softer than before, and the atmosphere grew quiet. Jaehyun shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. The two had a lot to talk about, and they both knew it. But the silence felt thick, and Jaehyun knew that neither of them were ready to talk.

 

So, he cleared his throat again, and sat forward. "Well, it's not like you gave me much of a choice," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. Taeyong tried for a smile, but his skittering eyes gave away his true feelings. Jaehyun swept his tongue over his lips – a nervous habit – and tried again. "So, what have I actually agreed to?"

 

This seemed to encourage Taeyong, as his eyes lit up and he reached into his backpack which rested against the leg of the table they sat at. After a few moments of searching, he pulled out three heavy folders, and dropped them in front of Jaehyun with a bang.

 

For a moment, Jaehyun said nothing, and tried to process what exactly the folders were. As if reading his mind, Taeyong began to explain.

 

"These are case files of three of the most dangerous criminals currently detained in Seoul prisons. For this operation, we're going to set them free," He began, and if he saw Jaehyun's panicked look, he didn't stop to inquire about it. "Along with Inspector Kim Doyoung, you and I are going to use these three criminals to capture the criminals that the regular police can't."

 

Then, he paused, looking up at Jaehyun with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Including the serial killer who killed your brother."

 

For a moment, Jaehyun couldn't breathe. It felt too soon to be chasing after the person who stole his brother's life – his emotions would get the better of him. He was a good police officer, but if he had to pick between his career and his brother, he wouldn’t even spare a thought for the police force. Mark was his everything.

 

Instead of voicing this to Taeyong, he asked a question. “How did you convince Doyoung to agree to this? He’s not quite as easy-going as me, and he definitely doesn’t do anything without a motive.”

 

Taeyong still seemed wary, and he eyed Jaehyun as if he was a frightened horse, about to get spooked at any moment. “Word’s in the air that Doyoung’s been working hard,” he began carefully. “And we all know that Doyoung would love a promotion.”

 

Jaehyun actually laughed out loud at that, surprising Taeyong. It surprised Jaehyun too – it was the first time he’d laughed in at least a month. But he just felt so comfortable – this was a familiar feeling to him. Since they’d started out together, Taeyong, Jaehyun and Doyoung had been inseparable, and Doyoung’s ambition was unrivalled. Jaehyun was relieved that Taeyong hadn’t forgotten.

 

Taeyong reached out and patted the top file. “You ready to meet our criminals? Inspector Doyoung and I had them chosen especially”

 

Jaehyun sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself. Who knows what kind of people Taeyong had picked? “Sure, let’s see.”

 

Satisfied, Taeyong pulled the first case into his lap. “Two years ago, one gang pretty much took over the whole of the Seoul underground. You remember?” He looked up briefly, to see Jaehyun nod. “It took them twenty five days – one day for each district.”

 

He opened the file, and slide it across the table to Jaehyun. “This guy is the leader’s right-hand man, the one who led all of the attacks; Wong Yukhei.”

 

Jaehyun looked up, surprised. “He’s not Korean?”

 

Taeyong shook his head. “Nope. He’s originally from Hong Kong, moved to Korea only a few years back. No-one really knows how he got into the whole gang business, but he was virtually unstoppable. Anyway, he got caught, and he’s been sentenced to 28 years in prison on various accounts of assault, illegal sales, gambling, and pretty much everything you’d expect from a gang member.”

 

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow, scanning the file. The mugshot captured a man with brown hair and full lips. Based on his appearance alone, he couldn’t have been much older than Mark, but his icy gaze took away from his youthful look. “Do you think he’ll comply? Have you even asked their permission?”

 

Taeyong chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, he’ll comply if he has to. We don’t need to ask their permission, because they’ll end up agreeing anyway.”

 

Frowning, Jaehyun looked back over Yukhei’s case file. “How are you so sure? This guy – he looks young, but do you really think someone, who’s loyal enough to follow someone’s orders to take over a country that isn’t even yours, is gonna follow what we say?”

 

For a moment, Taeyong didn’t say anything, before folding his hands on the table. “He’s loyal to the core, but he isn’t the brightest button. And this operation isn’t about loyalty. I don’t think for a second that they’ll do what we want and be loyal to us. But I do know that they’re desperate. They want out. And that’s what’s gonna get them to follow.”

 

Still not convinced, Jaehyun nodded. He took one last look at Yukhei’s case file, and shuddered to think of a guy, barely older than Mark, committing gang-related crimes, even at the risk of having to serve 28 years in jail, and say goodbye to his youth. In some twisted part of Jaehyun’s mind, he commended the guy for having the loyalty and guts to take the fall in his leader’s place. He closed the file, and pushed it across the table to Taeyong, who tucked it back into his backpack. “Who’s next?”

 

The next file showed a man slightly older than Jaehyun, and for some reason, after seeing Yukhei, it was a comfort. “Seo Youngho, also known as Johnny Seo. Born in Chicago, USA, moved over to Seoul a couple of years back. As far as background goes, that’s pretty much all we know. Oh, yeah, and he’s a hitman.”

 

Jaehyun almost dropped the case file. “A hit-man? Like an assassin?”

 

Taeyong stifled a laugh at Jaehyun’s reaction. “Exactly. No-one knows how he does it, but we assume he’s paid by anonymous clients. He’s been credited with over 20 kills, and he could’ve gotten away with all of them if he hadn’t turned himself in.”

 

“Turned himself in?” Jaehyun echoed, feeling equally confused and impressed. Taeyong nodded.

 

“He just walked into the police station, covered in blood. Claimed he’d committed a crime and surrendered.” Taeyong shook his head, seeming to be feeling something similar to what Jaehyun was. “He never gave a reason why, even when questioned in court. He got sentenced to 22 years.”

 

Jaehyun whistled lowly. “Where did you even find a group of guys like this? They’re both dangerous and unpredictable as hell.”

 

“Just as we like them,” Taeyong said. “We’re fighting fire with fire, here.” He reached across the table, and tugged Johnny’s case file towards him. He seemed hesitant to touch the last file, and Jaehyun’s curiosity was piqued.

 

“Saving the best ‘til last, right? Who’s the last one?” Jaehyun asked, trying to keep his tone light and cheerful, seeing Taeyong’s mood darken.

 

With apparent effort, the brunette pushed the last case file over to Jaehyun, letting only his fingertips brush the surface. Confused, Jaehyun opened the case file.

 

And then he understood.

 

“Nakamoto Yuta. Originally from Japan, had an IQ of 175 when he was 12 years old. He was the youngest member of Mensa in both Japan and Korea and speaks two languages fluently. He’s the youngest person to have a Ph.D in philosophy and maths.” Taeyong read out in a monotonal voice. He stopped for a moment, to stare fiercely at the case file. “Among his many titles, some could say that ‘the youngest serial killer’ is his most surprising,” he continued, sarcasm dripping from his words. “In less than a year, he killed 15 people. When we investigated the crime scene, there was no trace of him. No hair, footprints or DNA. They say it's a miracle that we caught him.”

 

Jaehyun stayed silent. He’d seen this man before, knew his case well. With their connected history, he was shocked that Taeyong had even considered picking Yuta to join the operation. “He’s a psychopath, isn’t he? He scored 38 out of 40 points on the PCL-R test.” He asked softly, not daring to look up at Taeyong.

 

He was met with silence. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his body beginning to realise the weight of this operation. All of these people, he would be afraid to encounter. The thought that he would have to spend an indefinite amount of time working with them to catch other criminals was terrifying, now that Jaehyun thought about it. He cursed himself inwardly, but there was no backing out now. He’d given Taeyong his word.

 

He heard rather than saw Taeyong move. “Doyoung wanted to know why he should have to work with these ‘beasts’,” he said softly. “With Yukhei’s power, Johnny’s technique, and Yuta’s intelligence… if we could get them to work together even for one case, no criminal would stand a chance against them.”

 

It made sense to Jaehyun, but he knew that Doyoung would’ve been hard to convince.

 

“He still doesn’t think we’ll be able to control them,” Taeyong seemed to be far away, not in the room with Jaehyun. “But I know better. Once they get a taste of freedom, they won’t be able to resist.” The far-away look in his eyes was turning slightly mad, and before Jaehyun could think better of it, he placed his hand over Taeyong’s folded ones.

 

“Taeyong, are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked urgently. Taeyong seemed shocked, his eyes flickering down to their now-intertwined hands, then back up to Jaehyun. “These guys are dangerous and it’s still so soon after Donghy– “

 

“I know,” Taeyong interrupted loudly, suddenly. Then he seemed to realise the situation, much like Jaehyun had only moments earlier, and slumped down, his head resting onto their hands. “I know.”

 

Minutes ticked by as they sat there together, saying nothing but at the same time understanding each other perfectly. A voice in the back of Jaehyun’s mind told him that this was too much, that this was going to end badly if they didn’t talk soon. But Jaehyun didn’t care.

 

' _This is better than talking,_ ' Jaehyun decided.

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I agree with Yukhei,” Johnny said, revelling in the surprised looks that the officers and Yukhei gave him. “We deserve human rights too.”

Yukhei hated prison buses. He’d been on quite a few since he arrived in Seoul – mostly getting transported to other prisons, since his violence wasn’t always appreciated, and he practically lived in handcuffs. 

 

This bus journey in particular, however, was boring. They’d been travelling for at least an hour, which meant that he wasn’t getting transferred. He thought he would’ve been told about a transfer anyway, especially if they were going so far out of the city centre. The seats were starting to get uncomfortable too – not that they’d ever been luxurious anyhow – and the grey city-line was starting to blur into one.

 

There were two prison guards sitting in the front of the bus, beside the driver. One was a younger guy, who worked in the prison Yukhei was stationed at. He knew for a fact that the officer was scared of him, even though he’d never directly threatened him. Or at least, not that he remembered.

 

On the other hand, there was an older police officer who Yukhei had never seen before. Yukhei remembered the officer glaring at him as he got onto the prison bus. Personally, Yukhei had been quite offended. At that moment in time, he hadn’t actually been doing anything illegal. 

 

The journey had been painfully quiet – the prison guards weren’t even talking amongst themselves. Yukhei leant forwards in his seat. “Excuse me!” He yelled. No response. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How rude,” he muttered in his native tongue.

 

He waited a few moments more before trying again. “Excuse me, officer! Where are we going? I’m not getting transferred right? Are you transferring me out of the city? Where are you taking me?”

 

Even after his torrent of questions, the blond criminal was ignored. He huffed loudly, cursing at his handcuffs, shifting noisily in his seat.

 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore people?” He called out again. “Are you mute?”

 

When there was still no answer, he lashed out, kicking the back of the seat in front of him so violently it made the bus shudder. “Hey! I memorised your face, you know! You’re so dead once I get these handcuffs off.” He spat.

 

He felt even more insulted when the guards didn’t even deign his threat with a reply. He scoffed, and resorted to staring out of the window. The bus continued travelling, not as silently as before due to the rattling chair in front of Yukhei – he would probably pay for that later.

 

The blond was so wrapped up in his plans for revenge that he almost missed the prison bus slowing to a stop, and the older guard walking towards him, carrying a grey duffel bag. Yukhei eyed it warily, not sure what to say or do.

 

The guard narrowed his eyes at Yukhei and haphazardly threw the bag onto the seat opposite. His next action made Yukhei’s eyes bulge in surprise – his handcuffs had been unlocked. Of course, when you set a notorious gang criminal free from his handcuffs, their first reaction is not gratitude, but rather to swing at you.

 

Being an older police officer, the man appeared to have predicted this, and stepped smoothly away from the young criminal’s fist, opting to gesture towards the grey duffle bag instead. “There are clothes in there. Change into them as quickly as possible.” Then, he moved away from Yukhei to sit back with the other police officer and the bus driver.

 

For a moment, Yukhei considered breaking a window and escaping, but as he surveyed his surroundings, it occurred to him that he had no idea where they were, and that the likelihood of him getting away with no repercussions was very slim. There were three people who stood in his way, and his boss had specifically told him to stay out of as much trouble as he could.

 

So, Yukhei decided he would change into the clothes. At first, he was pleased to see a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers – he’d been wearing unflattering prison jumpsuits for way too long. But as he began to change, he had a realisation.

 

“Hey, why are you making me wear civilian clothes?” He called out to the officers. Of course, there was no response. “Is it so you can take me away and bury me without bringing too much suspicion on yourself? Because people will find out, I can promise you! I have contacts everywhere, and – “

 

“Please, just shut up, and get changed!” The old police officer yelled back, and Yukhei had to hide his pleased grin from getting a reaction, but quietened down anyway.

 

After he’d changed and folded his jumpsuit like his mother had taught him to, he stretched out as much as he could. For two years, he had been restricted by handcuffs and tight jumpsuits, and he wasn’t exactly a small person. He’d grown a lot since he’d entered prison, seeing as he was still in his teens. He felt somewhat proud to know that he could place his hands flat on the prison bus, but apparently the younger prison guards saw that as a threat, as he came storming in to usher him back to his seat.

 

“Woah, woah, what’s the rush, man? Just having a bit of a stretch,” Yukhei laughed, but as they came closer towards him, he feigned a punch, and felt a shiver of pleasure go up his spine as he watched the officer cower back. “Just a joke, my friend, just a joke! Do you not have jokes in South Korea?” He reached out for the other man’s hand, grabbing it firmly and attempting to do a sort of handshake with him.

 

For the old police officer, that was crossing a line, and he actually pushed Yukhei back. Yukhei was stunned, momentarily, sitting in his seat and staring up at the officer. Slowly, he regained his composure, and he straightened himself up. “Listen here, Officer – uh – “his eyes flickered across the officer’s uniform to find his name tag. “- Officer Dang, I don’t – “

 

“It’s Kang,” the officer interrupted, and Yukhei glowered at him, bemused. “It’s Officer Kang.”

 

Yukhei brushed him off impatiently. “Whatever, I don’t care. What I do care about, is you laying your hands on me. It’s not necessary. I don’t appreciate it.” He leered towards Officer Kang, feeling yet another thrill at the way he jumped back. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt, would we?”

 

He could practically feel the tension in the room – bus, whatever – and he lived for the fact that he had the upper-hand. Even when he saw Officer Kang fumbling for his handcuffs, he knew that he was still in control, because he could take both police officers out with very little effort. But, he decided against it, his earlier revelations still remaining the same, and he held out his hands patiently as his handcuffs were tightened. He sent one last glare in the police officers’ direction, then turned his attention to the view outside the prison bus window, as the vehicle began moving again.

 

-

 

“It’s your day off.”

“My day off? What kind of a day off? Am I a soldier or something?” The tall brunette asked curiously, an easy smile blossoming on his face. 

 

The police officer scowled, and dropped a bag of clothes onto his lap. “Just change your clothes, you insufferable asshole, okay?”

 

Johnny scoffed, the smile dropping. “I just asked out of curiosity, why are you so annoyed?”

 

He watched carefully as the guard bent down to unlock his handcuffs. As soon as one of his hands were free, he grabbed the guard’s wrist, and yanked, bringing the guard to his knees, then grasped his neck roughly, squeezing hard enough to cut off his airflow. 

 

“Don’t be rude to me, okay? Even without you, my life was already stressful enough,” Johnny sighed, as if greatly put-upon, as if the choking guard beside him was a mere hindrance on his day. “If it’s not too much to ask for, how about you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Sound like a deal?”

 

When he heard the sound of another guard scrambling to help his co-worker, he pushed the other guy away, unlocking his other handcuff by himself.

 

“Don’t bother with me, I’ll just get changed now,” he called back to the guards, both of them tripping over each other in an attempt to get back to safety. He turned back to the guards, as he unbuttoned his jumpsuit, and winked at the guard he’d been choking just a few minutes prior. 

 

The clothes he had been given were strange, to say the least. It was a smart, pressed, tailored suit. Johnny almost laughed out loud – it was almost identical to the suit he had been arrested in. Or rather, the suit he’d turned himself in with. The prison – he was assuming the clothes were from the prison – was either purposely trying to unnerve him, or they were just very simple. Johnny would rather believer the latter, seeing as they’d also left him unattended, without handcuffs, at his own request.

 

He chuckled to himself, beginning to button up the crisp white shirt he’d been provided with. He hadn’t been told what was going on, but if the security was going to be like this, he would comply happily. He’d only done two years of his twenty-two-year sentence, and they were already letting him roam free. He smirked. There was something very odd about this situation, and he was part of it. His curiosity was going to get the better of him, but today, he would run with it. He wanted to know how this journey ended.

 

-

 

As soon as the bus stopped, Yukhei was suspicious. He was carted off the bus, his handcuffs were tightened, and then he was alone. The bust just drove off and left him there. ‘There’ being – well, the middle of nowhere. He was surrounded by trees, and dead grass, and everything smelt musty and earthly. When he peered through the trees, he could see an old church, and he swore to himself under his breath.

 

“Nope, not going in there,” he muttered. “I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that creepy old buildings are not places you want to be hanging out in.”

 

He began to stretch, but was abruptly stopped by his handcuffs. He groaned, and began scanning the area for an object to help him free his hands. Unfortunately, he just seemed to be surrounded by blunt rocks and twigs. He guessed that the police force wasn’t so stupid to leave him on his own, surrounded by sharp objects.

 

But that’s when it hit him – he was basically free. Sure, he was handcuffed, and he wasn’t exactly able to blend in with other civilians, but he’d been left in the middle of nowhere.

 

Suddenly struck with emotion, he crouched down, and grasped a small rock in his hand. He hadn’t thought about being free in a long time – 28 years was a very, very long time, and he was only a few years in. When he came to South Korea, there was so much he wanted to do and see. His plans had changed, but his desires hadn’t. Of course, he wasn’t completely senseless – he knew there was going to be a catch, and it probably wouldn’t give him the upper hand. But he was still free, outside the grey prison walls, wearing clothes that other people his age were wearing. And it felt good.

 

He didn’t have long to take any action though, as the sound of another bus pulling up behind him made him turn in surprise. He squinted at it, watching as another guy was pushed out of the bus, before being left much like Yukhei had been. He was a little taller than Yukhei, with soft brown hair, brown eyes, and a jaw that could cut your skin. He couldn’t help but snort at what the guy was wearing though – really, a full suit? Yukhei felt quite comfortable in his tracksuit and sneakers, but he had to give the guy credit for style.

 

Hearing Yukhei’s laugh, the new arrival turned to him, and Yukhei realised belatedly that he had been staring. “Who are you?”

 

The guy frowned at Yukhei, and began walking towards him. “Who are you?”

 

Yukhei cocked his head, feeling irritation beginning to bubble inside him, but he dampened it down. “I asked you first.” He replied, trying to keep his tone light and friendly.

 

The other guy didn’t seem to share the same sentiments. “Seriously, who are you? How old are you, punk?”

 

That pissed Yukhei off. “Punk? Who the hell are you calling punk?” He spat, advancing towards him, his boss’ words now a mere memory, rattling around in his subconscious. The other guy rolled his neck and squared his shoulders, preparing to take on Yukhei. His movements were so clean and precise, practiced, that it annoyed Yukhei further, and he raised his still handcuffed hands –

 

“God, I guess the public was right,” A voice called out, far away, yet loud enough to grab the two handcuffed men’s attention. Yukhei turned, bewildered, and he was aware of the other man doing the same. There was another man, coming out of the trees from where Yukhei had spotted the old church. “We can’t leave criminals unattended for only two minutes, and they’re already trying to kill each other.”

 

“He’s been watching us,” the tall guy muttered from behind Yukhei, and against his will, Yukhei found himself nodding his head.

 

“And who the hell are you?” Yukhei shouted. The man simply scoffed, and folded his arms, slowly walking towards the pair. He had dark black hair, a round face, and wide eyes that gave him a deceitfully gentle look.

 

“Wong Yukhei, Seo Youngho – Johnny, whichever you prefer,” He said, in an almost absent-minded way. Yukhei couldn’t help but steal a glance back at the man behind him, now identified as Johnny. He inclined his head as a sign of greeting, of temporary peace, and the other man returned the gesture. Slowly, he turned back to the other new comer.

 

“But who are you? Why are we here?” Johnny asked, his voice hard, yet slightly softened by curiosity.

 

The dark-haired man smiled, making his cheeks bunch together sweetly, contrary to the words that left his mouth. “I’m Inspector Kim Doyoung. I’ll be working with you criminals for the foreseeable future.”

 

For a moment, neither criminal said a word. Yukhei opened his mouth to say something – probably a curse of surprise, or a demand for more information – but he was further shocked into silence when Inspector Kim signalled for two other police officers – “Where the hell were they?” Yukhei heard Johnny mumble – to come forward and unlock their handcuffs.

 

Unlike the last time Yukhei had been unhandcuffed, he didn’t know what to do, and clearly, neither did Johnny. The two convicts, previously raising hands to each other, were stood somewhat awkwardly, still stunned.

 

Inspector Kim, on the other hand, seemed bemused at a different situation. He’d walked back to the road that Yukhei and Johnny’s prison buses had driven down, and kept staring off into the distance, as if waiting for someone. Eventually, he huffed out a sigh, stomping back towards the two bewildered criminals. “There should be one more person arriving, but I guess he’s running late.” He commented, running a hand through his hair. Then he jerked his head towards the church, and started to stomp through the trees towards it. “Come on,” he called.

 

Yukhei had never liked being bossed around by someone he didn’t know, and made a noise of disbelief. “Is he just confident or rude? Why should I follow him?” He grumbled to himself.

 

He thought he’d had enough shocks for one day, but he was proved wrong when Johnny simply gave a noncommittal shrug, shoved his hands in his suit trouser pockets, and followed the inspector. Yukhei all but swore under his breath, weighing up his options in his head, before caving in and going after the other two men.

-

Somehow, Johnny wasn’t surprised by the location, as he ducked through the church doors and immediately breathed in the musty smell of a place that hadn’t been accessed by people for many years. There were cracks in the roof that let in the only source of light, the pews were broken and rotting, and there were patches of mud where beautiful floor tiles had once been. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, but said nothing – he was in no place to be complaining about interior designing.

 

A glance to his left told him that his new companion was having similar feelings – Yukhei, Johnny remembered, was staring in mild horror at a statue of the Virgin Mary, covered entirely in cobwebs and housing a spider the size of Johnny’s fist. He saw the younger man give a full body shudder, before shuffling away.

 

The inspector seemed uninterested, marching up the centre aisle of the church, towards a slightly raised platform. For how delicate he looked, Johnny reckoned that the officer wasn’t someone to mess with. He was a few inches shorter than Johnny, but had a gait that could make a street gangster quake with fear.

 

Somewhere on the other side of the centre aisle, Yukhei knocked over a statue. Johnny heard him talking to himself in his native language, presumably cursing at the statue, and probably the whole situation he’d gotten himself into.

 

Johnny couldn’t blame him.

 

Inspector Kim, on the other hand, had grown impatient, and he cleared his throat loudly to get the two criminals’ attention. In a mocking fashion, he gestured towards the pews at the front of the church, near the platform. 

 

“Make yourselves at home,” he called, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. Yukhei frowned, testing each pew to find one that wouldn’t break under his weight, settling for one three rows from the front, on the right. Johnny, on the other hand, opted for one further back, on the left. Yukhei didn’t seem like an immediate threat, but their little altercation from earlier had proved to Johnny that he wasn’t someone that should be easily trusted. He would have to earn it.

 

His train of thought was interrupted when Inspector Kim reached the back of the platform, and pulled down a length of fabric that had been covering a board. As Johnny squinted at it through the darkness, he saw that the board contained graphic pictures of people of all age and gender, laying with limbs askew, blood splattered across their bodies. Johnny winced – not with pity for the dead, but rather with distaste for the clumsy and messy method of killing. He could have done the job a lot better.

 

Inspector Kim clapped once, loud enough to capture the attention of both convicts. “Shall we begin?” he asked sweetly, as if he wasn’t standing in front of a board of explicit and, for any sane person, disturbing pictures. Not to mention the fact that Johnny – and presumably Yukhei – had no idea what they were actually beginning. 

 

“As I said earlier, we are expecting another person, but he must be running late, I’m sure he’ll be able to catch up,” Inspector Kim commented nonchalantly, before gesturing to the board beside him. “What you see here are the case materials regarding the serial murders in south-eastern Seoul since December last year. The number of victims is eight so far.”

 

Momentarily, Johnny felt himself being unimpressed with the number. This so-called “serial-killer” had killed eight people in six months, but Johnny had killed twice as many people in less than two months. He shook his head quickly, as if trying to shake away his old habits, his old pride. He didn’t want to show any signs of weakness, so instead he kicked up his legs onto the pew in front of him, stretching out as fully as he could.

 

His actions were met with a disagreeable look from Inspector Kim, who chose not to say anything about the matter, but to continue with his presentation. 

 

Yukhei had been wriggling in his seat the whole time, his facial expression somewhat pained. When the officer had finished speaking, he blurted out the questions Johnny had been thinking too. “What do we have to do with this? Why are you actually showing us this?”

 

Johnny was somewhat surprised by the Inspector’s reaction. Most police officers would have yelled at a criminal for addressing someone they considered “superior” as informally and casually as Yukhei had, but not Inspector Kim Doyoung. He just rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Because I want you to catch the culprit.”

 

Although he tried his hardest, he really did, Johnny couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as he heard the reasoning. Whatever answer he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that one. He was pleased to hear Yukhei having a similar response, a bark of laughter that was cut off short. “Oh, man, you really had me going there for a second,” the blond criminal said, a dazed smile blooming on his face. But it disappeared as quickly as the laughter did, and his expression hardened as he leant forwards in his seat, towards the detective. “Are you kidding me? Is the police force suffering so much that you’ve decided to hire out criminals to do your dirty work?”

 

The inspector didn’t look alarmed, and Johnny had to give him credit for that. Yukhei didn’t seem like he had been top of his class, but he was pretty physically intimidating when his face was set like stone. “Stay down, gangster. You don’t wanna get hurt.” Inspector Kim said, his voice soft and gentle, yet seemingly more dangerous than any threat Johnny had heard before.

 

Apparently, Yukhei could sense this too, but instead of doing what normal people do at the sign of danger, he stood up from his seat and stepped towards the detective. “What did you say? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” 

 

“Let him finish,” Johnny intervened. Normally, he would stay out of it, but he really didn’t feel like witnessing a fight when he didn’t care about the odds on either side. “Don’t be stupid.”

 

This was the wrong thing to say, in Yukhei’s mind, as he whirled around to Johnny, cocking his head. “Oh, really? You wanna get involved? How about you just sit there and shut up, alright?”

 

Johnny fought the urge to raise an eyebrow – the boy clearly had a temper. He sighed, letting his head drop backwards and stared up at the ceiling. He prayed to every god and deity to give him patience, but no-one was listening. So, he stood up, slowly, smoothing out the creases in his suit trousers. He drew himself up to his full height, and moved towards the blond. “Don’t tell me what to do, kid.”

 

The tension in the room was thick, and Johnny could feel the back of his neck heating up, prickling uncomfortably. Yukhei was visibly grinding his teeth, and his hands were clenched. For a moment, Johnny thought he was going to sit back down, as he began to crouch. But then he lunged forwards.

 

Although he hadn’t necessarily been expecting it, Johnny still saw him coming. After all, he was experienced. He side-stepped to avoid the blond boy, then turned sharply, swatting away a punch aimed at his face, and sending a punch to his opponent’s side.

 

It was a hard hit, even by Johnny’s standards, and shock washed over him as the younger man barely flinched. In a rookie mistake, his shock stopped him from blocking Yukhei’s hand, that shot forward to grasp his throat. It only took him a moment to rebound, and he smacked his arm hard enough to make Yukhei trip into a church pew, then took several steps back while he recovered.

 

Yukhei straightened up again, and stared at him from across the other side of the church aisle, now standing on the left-hand side. There was a moment while neither of them moved, and Johnny took the opportunity to seize him up. He was only a little shorter than himself, but was as equally, if not more, broad as himself. He was as physically intimidating as Johnny, but he had the face of a young, innocent man. Johnny couldn’t tell if that made him more dangerous or less.

 

Opposite him, Yukhei seemed to be getting fired up again. He rolled his shoulders, then stepped forwards, knocking an entire pew over.

 

For some unknown reason, this was where Inspector Kim drew the line. “Stop it! Both of you, you’re acting like pathetic children.” He glared at both of them, folding his arms over his chest.

 

Before any of them could make another move, the church doors opened with a bang. All three of them turned sharply, immediately defensive.

 

“Stop what?” called a voice from the doors. Johnny peered towards the doors, and saw two men, one holding a briefcase, both shorter than himself and brunette, one a couple of inches shorter than the other. Contrary to Johnny’s assumptions, it was the shorter one who carried himself more confidently, whereas the taller one seemed to hang back in suspicion. 

 

The shorter of the two sauntered down the centre aisle, before stopping abruptly to lean forwards assess Johnny and Yukhei. When realisation struck him, he broke into a smile like the Cheshire cat’s, and tucked his hands into his pockets.

 

“Ah, where the two of you about to fight?” he grinned, before continuing down the centre aisle, pushing past the two criminals. Johnny simply staggered back in surprise, before meeting eyes with Yukhei, who looked as bewildered as he felt.

 

When he turned back to the newcomer, he was greeting Inspector Kim in a surprisingly friendly, casual way. Seeing the curious looks, Inspector Kim grabbed hold of the newcomer’s arm, and gestured for the other man, who was still loitering near the doors at the back, clutching the briefcase, to come forwards.

 

Johnny couldn’t help but smirk. Out of everyone he had met today, this one had the most common sense. He could sense the tension, and clearly recognised Yukhei and Johnny, and knew they weren’t to be messed with. Nevertheless, he walked forwards obediently, cleanly stepping away from them, swinging his case in front of him. Johnny got a good look at him, though, and was surprised by how pale he was, and how he almost resembled a sick child. But sickly looks aside, as he stood beside Inspector Kim and his companion, he was a good few inches taller than both of them, which created a strange sort of hierarchy in Johnny’s mind.

 

“This is Detective Lee Taeyong,” Inspector Kim introduced, nodding towards the man he had greeted before. The detective grinned, bowing slightly, if not mockingly. 

 

“And this,” Inspector Kim continued, gesturing to the taller man, “is Superintendent Jung Yoonoh, better known as Jaehyun.” The man in question didn’t say anything, but inclined his head as greeting.

 

Frowning, Johnny tried to recall why the name sounded familiar to him. Then, it clicked. This was the brother of the detective who had been murdered a few weeks ago. Johnny felt a pang of sympathy for the man, as the pale complexion and dark eye-bags began to make sense. He’d heard that the detective had died trying to catch a killer, and although Johnny applauded him for his bravery, he couldn’t empathise.

 

Going to an assassin to grieve a murder was like throwing a bucket of water into the ocean – useless.

 

Johnny shook himself from his thoughts, and wondered if they were about to get answers. Two dangerous criminals, a third possibly on the way, as Inspector Kim had mentioned, and three prestigious police officers. They’d been told to catch a serial killer – and that’s when everything began to fall into place.

 

“Has Doyoung told you why you’re here?” Detective Lee asked, his tone bright and casual, as if talking to a friend. Inspector Kim, or Doyoung, glared at the detective for addressing him informally, but strangely said nothing. Johnny couldn’t hold back the amused smile that formed on his lips – the inspector was a very, very strange man, not like any police officer he’d ever met before. But then again, Johnny didn’t suppose that any of these police officers were like any ordinary police officers.

 

At the lack of reaction, Detective Lee continued. “We want you to catch a serial killer. Makes our job easier, you see.”

 

This was a misplaced comment, as Johnny could practically feel Yukhei beginning to heat up again, and apparently so could Detective Lee, as his grin broadened.

 

“Before you get too angry, there is a catch,” his voice became very soft, and dangerous, much like Doyoung’s had been before. Suddenly interested, Johnny folded his arms. He never liked to do other people’s dirty work without something in return. Detective Lee noted his interest, and leant forwards, as if the words that were about to spill out of his mouth were highly confidential. Which, Johnny supposed, they probably were. With a glance to his right, he saw that Lucas was just as curious as he was, possibly more so. He’d sat back down, on the first pew on the left-hand side, the one he’d fallen into moments earlier. Detective Lee was glancing furtively between the two of them, before choosing to enlighten them.

 

“Whoever catches the killer,” he began, pausing for a dramatic effect that frankly pissed Johnny off, “will receive a five-year reduction in their sentence.”

 

This time Johnny couldn’t hide the shock. He stepped backwards, stumbling into a pew and sitting down heavily. He heard Yukhei’s choked gasp and knew that they were having the same feelings, although maybe not for the same reasons.

 

Detective Lee seemed to be very satisfied with their reactions, and turned to his co-workers. Johnny decided that he’d had enough twists in his day so far, when he saw that the police officers looked as bewildered as the criminals did. “You were going to tell them about that, right?” Detective Lee asked, his voice light and almost teasing. Johnny couldn’t even begin to fathom what was going through the police officer’s mind, but he did briefly question his sanity.

 

When there was no response again, the detective laughed. “Damn, Doyoung! What are you playing at? You should know that criminals pretend not to listen, but they actually do.”

 

In the fogginess of Johnny’s shocked brain, he recognised Doyoung’s expression as being, well – not quite murderous, but something of that standard. The shorter detective seemed not to notice, or if he did, then it clearly didn’t bother him, as he clapped the inspector on the back and angled himself back to the criminals sitting on the church pews.

 

“Still, not everyone can get their sentenced reduced,” Detective Lee sighed, as if carrying a great burden, and the two sat in front of him weren’t the ones doing all the hard work. “only the one who catches the culprit. If one of you catches them, then the other gets nothing.”

 

If the tension in the room had been thick before, it was stifling now. Johnny almost felt like he couldn’t breathe. From what he had heard so far, he was virtually free, although having to catch a killer, and could get his sentence reduced. All for what? He hadn’t been an exemplary inmate, and he certainly wasn’t someone whom people went to for comfort, sympathy, or advice. There had to be something more than that – he had no reason to be free.

 

Doyoung – Inspector Kim, but what’s in a name? – cleared his throat loudly, as if hearing Johnny’s thoughts. “Of course, there are some conditions.”

 

“What kind of conditions?” Yukhei asked from his seat, speaking up for the first time since they’d received the news.

 

The shortest police officer shrugged. “Alcohol, drugs, weapons, and violence are all banned. Technically, everything you guys are used to is banned.” It was like he could sense the disapproval from both criminals, and his Cheshire cat smile was back. “But you know what? Just do everything. If you catch the culprit, none of it will matter anyway.”

 

Johnny couldn’t help but scowl – the detective was making words that should be simple and clear sound so cryptic and enigmatic. It was exhausting, especially when the superintendent, the silent one, opened the briefcase that he had been holding. Johnny couldn’t quite see what it was, and he still felt shaken, so he let Yukhei get up and do the questioning.

 

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice confused yet gentle, like a small child’s, “are these watches? Like, electronic watches?”

 

At his question, Johnny’s suspicion was roused, and when he stood to join Yukhei’s judgment, he scoffed loudly, shaking his head. He was past upset – he was disgusted. 

 

Yukhei still wasn’t following his train of thought. “What, you don’t like electronic watches?”

 

“It’s a digital ankle bracelet,” Johnny corrected gingerly, glaring at the briefcase. Yukhei stumbled a bit, blinking hard, clearly trying to figure out if he’d heard correctly or not.

 

“A digital ankle bracelet?” He repeated, seemingly horrified. “The ones sex offenders wear?” He looked up to the officers for confirmation, and spluttered, unbelieving. “No way am I wearing that! If anyone sees this on me, they’ll think I’m a rapist. Just because I’m a criminal doesn’t mean that I should be branded like that.”

 

His words became rushed towards the end of his rant, and his accent thickened so it was difficult to make out the words, but Johnny was impressed. He would’ve expected a gangster to just take whatever he was given, but even for a young, foreign gangster, Yukhei knew what he believed in.

 

“I agree with Yukhei,” Johnny said, revelling in the surprised looks that the officers and Yukhei gave him. “We deserve human rights too.”

 

Doyoung scoffed and opened his mouth to retort back, but Taeyong stopped him. “Well, loosely speaking, you two aren’t the best humans. A hit-man and the right-hand man of a notorious gang. Right now, you should be thankful with what you get. Beg for your human rights later.”

 

Silence fell upon the church again, and neither officer nor criminal moved or spoke. What Taeyong had said was right, and they knew it. His words held so much weight that there was nothing anyone could say to sway the truth.

 

Then, a phone rang, and Jaehyun jolted, before reaching into his pocket to answer it.

 

“Hello?” He answered, then promptly almost dropped the phone, his head snapping towards Taeyong, with a panicked expression.

 

“What do you mean, Nakamoto Yuta has escaped?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and meeting 5 out of the 6 main characters. please feel free to leave any criticism in the comments! thank you for reading! by the way, i would like to mention that i don't have a beta reader, so none of this is edited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doyoung exhaled loudly, tired of waiting. “So? How did Nakamoto Yuta escape?”

Doyoung had given the officers escorting the criminals very few instructions. One was to get the meeting place as soon as possible. The second was to not let the criminals out of their sight until they were in the meeting place, the church, with the others.

 

And somehow, the officers escorting Nakamoto Yuta had failed to follow both. Sometimes, Doyoung wondered why the police force was lacking so badly, then incidents like this happened. And it all became clear.

 

Really, it was his own fault. He should’ve insisted on escorting Nakamoto Yuta himself, but he would’ve been shot down as soon he suggested the idea. Doyoung knew better, he knew that the Japanese criminal in particular was the most dangerous. Sure, the other two were violent and more likely to kill each other, or someone else, but at least they were human, and would most likely bend to offers of freedom or money.

 

Yuta was a curiosity, an enigma. First things first, he was a psychopath. Doyoung didn’t know if he felt any emotion whatsoever, but the first time he had met the man, it had seemed unlikely. 

 

It was in a visiting booth, with Doyoung securely sitting behind the glass. He’d been waiting to meet the criminal for twenty minutes now, and was getting more and more antsy every moment, not because of fear but because of shear impatience. When the cold metal door finally swung open, Doyoung felt all of the air rush from his body, like he’d been winded, as he finally laid eyes on the plausibly the most dangerous criminal Doyoung would ever meet. Doyoung tried to convince himself that he wasn’t afraid, but as the criminal sat down on the opposite side of the glass to him, his body betrayed him, and he gave a full-body shudder.

 

Nakamoto Yuta didn’t acknowledge Doyoung’s actions, and simply stared, his eyes burning holes through the thin barrier between them. Every move he made was calculated, and Doyoung was sure that by the first second he’d looked at Doyoung, he’d known at least six ways to get out of his handcuffs, another three ways to get through the glass, and an unimaginable amount of ways to get what he wanted from Doyoung. But, that was another mystery in itself – he was too unpredictable to even begin to predict what his desires were.

 

And on that positive note, Doyoung brought himself out of his memories and into the real world, and remembered that this unpredictable psychopath with unknown ambitions was missing.

 

As soon as Jaehyun picked up the phone and relayed the message of the missing convict, Doyoung had stormed out of the church. He’d been angry before – what with the other criminals acting like children, and Taeyong addressing him informally in front of said criminals – but now he was furious. He couldn’t trust fully grown adults to do their jobs, and he was seriously starting to question their qualifications.

 

He made it to his car, that was parked around the back of the church, before he was stopped by Jaehyun, calling after him and reminding him that he didn’t know where he was going.

 

He’d let Jaehyun type the last known address of Nakamoto Yuta into his GPS, but his plan to go alone was thwarted when Jaehyun insisted that he went with him, while Taeyong followed behind in a separate vehicle with the other convicts.

 

Doyoung had tried to convince him against this, but Jaehyun was stubborn, so they both sat in the car in silence. Doyoung was angry, and Jaehyun was awkward: there wasn’t a lot of conversation to be had. On top of that, Doyoung didn’t know what to say to Jaehyun. He’d just lost his brother, the person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world. Sure, Doyoung and Jaehyun were close, but their relationship was nothing like Jaehyun and Mark’s, and frankly, Doyoung was mad at Taeyong for bringing Jaehyun back to work so soon after Mark’s death.

 

“Hey, uh, Doyoung? Can we slow down a bit?” Jaehyun’s timid voice startled Doyoung, and with an overdue glance at his dash, he saw that he’d been going at least 20 miles over the speed limit. He swore, quite loudly, dropping the speed. He silently prayed that he hadn’t been caught by speed cameras – this would be a very difficult situation to tell the police about, especially in such a top-secret circumstance. The chief would never give him his promised promotion if he had to spill the beans about the “Mad Dog” mission, as it had been nicknamed.

 

At the slower pace, Jaehyun was squirming in his seat, as if he wanted to say something. Doyoung bit back the urge to tell him to spit it out; who knows what he was thinking? He sighed. Another time, he would ask. But right now, he was focused on catching one of the most dangerous criminals he’d ever come across. Questions could always be asked later.

 

After twenty minutes of travelling at the legal speed limit, they reached their destination, a grimy looking gas station, according to the GPS. Unsurprisingly, Taeyong and his group of criminals were already there, gathered in a small cluster. Doyoung knew that the older male had a preference of driving at least 30 miles over the speed limit, and he highly doubted that either of the criminals would have any complaints.

 

As Jaehyun and Doyoung got out of the car, Doyoung realised that the others obviously hadn’t been there long, as they were stood by the entrance to the gas station, and he wasn’t about to believe that any of them were courteous enough to wait for them.

 

Doyoung felt another wave of annoyance wash through him, as he approached the group and saw that neither of the criminals had handcuffs on. He knew that they were allowed to be un-handcuffed in the church, but did that rule apply everywhere?

 

Taeyong – as per usual – seemed to be completely oblivious to Doyoung’s frustrations, and greeted the officers with a bright smile.

 

“The two officers say they’re ready to talk,” He said, gesturing towards the gas station. But, as Jaehyun moved towards the entrance, Taeyong stopped him. “Hey, Jaehyun, how about you and Yukhei interrogate one, and Doyoung, Johnny and I will interrogate the other?”

 

Jaehyun’s expression mirrored Doyoung’s – complete confusion, but a little less frustration. To Doyoung’s surprise, Jaehyun merely nodded, and gestured for Yukhei to follow him. The blond complied, obviously already too confused to sense the tension.

 

While Doyoung watched the two leave, he caught Taeyong whispering something to Johnny. Normally, Taeyong was good at being subtle, but it was hard to miss the tall brunet leaning down to let Taeyong speak to him. It was only a short message, and the criminal nodded once as the police officer stepped backwards.

 

After the giant straightened up again, Taeyong turned to Doyoung, a bright, blinding smile plastered on his face. “Shall we go?” He asked, beginning to walk off before Doyoung had responded. The senior officer scowled, pretending not to notice the amused expression on the hit-man’s face, and followed without speaking.

 

Taeyong led them into the men’s bathroom, where a police officer was waiting, visibly shaken. He bowed deeply to the two officers, and started when he saw Johnny. Doyoung could hardly blame him – Johnny’s physical stature was probably intimidating to most people, even without knowing his crimes.

 

As Doyoung looked around, he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. The place was pretty grim already, but the bathroom had been partially destroyed, conjuring all kinds of images in Doyoung’s head. He glanced over at Taeyong, and the germaphobe was coping as well as Doyoung thought he would – hands folded across his chest, standing directly in the middle of the room, and refusing to touch anything. Johnny, on the other hand, leant against a wall on the far side of the room. 

 

“So, what happened here?” Doyoung asked, after briefly inspecting the room. The floor was dirty, a handle was broken off one of the stalls, and there was a broken mop on the floor. Absently, Doyoung wondered if this was due to the work of a psychopath or a lazy cleaner.

 

“W-well,” The police officer began, wringing his hands together. Doyoung could practically see the sweat-drops rolling from his forehead, and fought back the urge to gag. “The convict wanted to use the bathroom, so we stopped here. While myself and the other officer waited for him, he knocked something off the shelf – a can or something. My colleague bent down to pick it up, but he got kicked in the face, hard, and he fell,” the officer explained. While Doyoung was trying to listen, he was aware of the fact that Taeyong was analysing the room. Doyoung supposed that he was checking the police officer’s story, and in the moment, he wasn’t looking convinced. 

 

“Then what?” Doyoung prompted, as the officer began to fumble, still twitching nervously. If he was trying to pass the fumbling off as his reaction being attacked, it was a good thing he never tried to go into acting – the shaking was so forced even Yukhei, arguably the most unobservant person on the ‘team’, would’ve noticed.

 

“I ran to the guy – the criminal – and I tried to hit him, but he was too fast. We fought, but he broke the handle off one of the stall doors, and hit me with it,” the officer raised a shaking hand to point at the area around his eyebrow, a cut zig-zagging across his face. “I don’t know what happened after that, but I think he got my keys. I’m very sorry.”

 

There was silence in the room for a moment, as the listeners processed his story. Doyoung felt compelled to believe him, but Taeyong’s expression suggested otherwise. He took another sweeping glance around the room, before meeting eyes with Doyoung, and then Johnny.

 

“Damn, sounds like you had a hard time,” Taeyong said, his voice deceptively soft and gentle. Doyoung knew that tone well – it meant that Taeyong was gonna call him out on his bullshit, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Then it dawned on Doyoung – that’s why Johnny was there. Taeyong took a step closer to the officer. “How badly were you hurt? You should go and see a doctor as soon as possible.”

 

“No, sir, I’m not that badly hurt. I’m just sorry I let the criminal get away,” The officer bowed his head, a sign of humility, but the way his eyes flickered nervously implied otherwise.

 

“No, no, I insist, you must get looked over,” Taeyong’s voice had a dangerous edge to it, and Doyoung knew the man was in trouble. The officer in question shrank back slightly as Taeyong slowly began to approach him, all the more suggesting his lack of innocence. Without looking, the detective gestured for Johnny to come forwards. “How about you let my friend here check you for serious damage?”

 

Doyoung raised an eyebrow at Johnny’s amusement, and as Taeyong began to leave, Doyoung caught the shorter man’s arm. “What are you doing?” He asked softly, trying not to focus on Johnny sidling up to the now very frightened police officer.

 

“I’m just doing my job,” He replied smoothly, brushing Doyoung’s hand off, and leaning against the door, presumably to keep it closed. Which, as it turned out, was a good idea, as Doyoung huffed – he wasn’t sure what he had signed up for, but it certainly wasn’t this. Certainly not cleaning up after one criminal and sitting by while another beat the crap out of his colleague. God knows where the other one was, and Doyoung could only hope that Jaehyun was safe.

 

While Doyoung averted his eyes to Johnny’s “interrogation”, Taeyong watched carefully. Of course, Taeyong had never been opposed to a bit of persuasive violence. Keeping this in mind, Doyoung was surprised about how soon Taeyong stopped Johnny. Doyoung was even more surprised when Johnny stepped away. But of course, Johnny was a paid hit-man – he knew how to take orders.

 

“What’s your job, officer?” Taeyong called out. He slowly made his way over to the officer, who wasn’t exactly moving, or speaking. The detective crouched down, reached forwards and grasped the officers name tag. “Officer Hwa… your job is to protect people. Yet, in the last hour, you’ve lost one of the most dangerous criminals of this decade, and you’ve lied. Badly.”

 

Officer Hwa’s eyes widened in fear, realising that his cover had been blown. Taeyong chuckled darkly, leaning in close. “Do you know who pays your salary? The people you’re supposed to protect. All of these civilians pay taxes. Surely, you should have enough decency to not lie. It’s common courtesy.”

 

Johnny began to move forwards again, and Doyoung didn’t even want to entertain the idea of what would happen to the deceitful officer next. But, apparently, God was merciful, and a loud voice made all three of them turn to the door in surprise.

 

The door burst open, a very proud Yukhei stood grinning in the entrance, his arm slung around the other police officer. “This guy says he’s gonna tell us everything!” He all but chirped, his face radiating like sunshine.

 

Jaehyun appeared behind him, gently pushing him through the doorway, seemingly less excitable, but pleased nonetheless. “It took some persuasion, but he says he’ll comply.”

 

Taeyong looked almost as happy as Yukhei did, but as Doyoung scanned the criminal, he noticed a tiny detail he didn’t remember seeing before. “Yukhei, where did you get that hat?”

 

The tall blond frowned, confused, before patting the top of his head, and pulling the hat off. He examined it briefly, before realisation hit him, and his smile came back. “Ah, this is yours, isn’t it, my friend?” He spoke to the officer beside him, placing the hat on his head, and pushing him away, less than gently.

 

Doyoung exhaled loudly, tired of waiting. “So? How did Nakamoto Yuta escape?”

 

The officer gulped audibly, before beginning to explain. “We stopped here, I escorted him to the bathroom and Officer Hwa went to get some cigarettes. Then he went towards a stall, so I closed the door for him, but he hit me with the door, and I fell. There was a mop, and he snapped it,” he gestured towards the broken mop, still on the floor. “He pointed the sharp end of it towards me, and told me to call out for Officer Hwa. He hit me, hard, and I think I passed out. Next thing I remember, Officer Hwa was with me, asking me where he went. I couldn’t tell him, but he was hiding in a stall again and he was too fast. He knocked Officer Hwa down too.”

 

He swallowed, folding his shaking hands behind his back. “He took the keys for his handcuffs, and now he’s gone.”

 

The others had listened in silence, taking in the story. This time, it was real – Doyoung could tell by Taeyong’s reaction, which was him stamping out of the room as soon as the officer had finished speaking. The two criminals and Jaehyun, on the other hand, just watched, each with varying levels of confusion on their faces.

 

Doyoung groaned. This was going to be a very, very long day.

 

-

 

Taeyong bent down to pick up a pair of handcuffs – presumably Yuta’s – which had been discarded at the back entrance of the gas station. He ran his fingers across the smooth metal, trying to plan his next move quickly. It wasn’t long before he heard the footsteps of the others, and he quickly straightened up, holding the handcuffs out for them to see.

 

“It’s been two hours since Nakamoto Yuta escaped,” he informed them. “Theoretically, he could be anywhere in this country right now. If we don’t find him soon, we’ll have hell to pay.” 

 

He opened his mouth to say more, but he was interrupted. He hated being interrupted.

 

“That’s great and all, but we never actually agreed to this,” Yukhei said, his tone carefully controlled. Beside him, Johnny turned, looking mildly surprised.

 

“We?” He questioned, the simple word making Yukhei frown. He was clearly about to complain, but Johnny spoke again. “How many years have you got left? Twenty? Twenty-five? More than that?”

 

Yukhei fell silent for a moment, before sullenly responding “Twenty-six. I’ve already done two.”

 

“You don’t want to waste your whole life in jail, do you? How old are you, eighteen? Nineteen?” This time, Johnny didn’t wait for Yukhei to answer. “So, you need to catch Nakamoto Yuta, even if it means risking your life.” Then, he glanced across to Taeyong. “Does your offer still stand?”

 

Taeyong had to fight down his grin after watching the two criminals bicker. Even when he was first formulating his plan, he knew that everyone was susceptible to something, and for prisoners, their greatest desire was freedom. “Of course. Four years reduction for the one who catches Nakamoto Yuta. With one condition.”

 

This time, the criminals only looked momentarily confused before they realised he meant the digital ankle bracelets that he’d referred to before. After a slight hesitation, Yukhei scowled, folding his arms, but he nodded. His simple gesture made adrenaline buzz through Taeyong’s veins - two out of the three criminals had agreed to follow his plan, with a lot less convincing than Taeyong thought they needed.

 

“Fine, I’ll wear the damn ankle bracelet. Does that mean I can legally beat people up?” He asked. Taeyong couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter at Jaehyun’s startled expression.

 

“Sure, as long as you don’t kill anyone,” Doyoung said, his voice a lot calmer than Taeyong would’ve expected, as he took out his phone, presumably to let the chief know what was happening. Jaehyun mumbled that he was going to get the ankle bracelets, before jogging back to Doyoung’s car.

 

Yukhei grinned. “I can’t promise that.” Doyoung simply rolls his eyes, before requesting a vehicle to collect all five of them.

 

Jaehyun returned with the ankle bracelets only moments later, but he handed them to Taeyong instead of giving them out to the criminals. Taeyong looked at him quizzically, but when Jaehyun simply looked away, Taeyong didn’t push it, and merely threw the bracelets to their new owners. Taeyong didn’t have to worry about them catching it – most skilled criminals had pretty good reflexes.

 

“Consider this your warm up,” Taeyong told the criminals, while they fitted their bracelets and waited for their escort vehicle to arrive. “Do well on this task, and your sentence will practically melt away.”

 

As Yukhei fiddled with his digital ankle bracelet - playing with the options, presumably -, the taller criminal moved to stand behind Taeyong. “Is this really the best idea?” Johnny asked softly. “Letting out dangerous criminals with the intention of them catching other criminals? With nothing but their word to convince you they’ll comply?”

 

Taeyong didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer – at least not one that he wanted to give them the pleasure of hearing. He had to admit that when he came up with the idea, he really didn’t think that the chief would agree so easily.

 

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter,” Doyoung said breezily, signalling to the escort vehicle in the distance. Taeyong allowed himself to be momentarily surprised at how fast the police force had acted – but then again, there was a dangerous killer was on the loose, and all they’d really done was talk about it. He turned back to the group and gave them one of his rare smiles. “At the end of the day, you’re still criminals, and we’re the ones who will get the credit. But you have to submit, because you have no other choice.”

 

Then, the escort vehicle pulled up in front of them, and Doyoung opened the door and stepped inside, in one smooth movement.

 

Taeyong rolled his eyes. Doyoung always had a flair for the theatrics. He held the door open, and gestured sarcastically for the other officer and the criminals to get in too. He laughed unashamedly at Yukhei and Johnny having to duck to get in, but he was abruptly stopped by Jaehyun, as he had to crouch in. Taeyong reminisced the time when he was taller than Jaehyun, before the younger had a growth spurt, and he scowled, before clambering in after them, and slamming the door shut.

 

The two criminals were sat in the back, Doyoung and Jaehyun in front of them. Doyoung leant over to Taeyong and handed him a picture while Taeyong slid forwards into the passenger seat. When he looked back, he saw that everyone else in the vehicle had the same photograph. He looked down at it, he saw two young men, the one on the right smiling brightly at the camera, the other staring blankly into the camera, barely a hint of recognition in his eyes.

 

“Who are these?” Yukhei asked, never embarrassed to express his confusion. To be fair, Taeyong assumed that Johnny had been thinking the same thing, but Johnny seemed to be a little bit more highly strung than Yukhei was.

 

“The one on the right is Ji Hansol,” Doyoung begins to explain. “He dated Nakamoto Yuta for over five years, before ultimately being the one to put him in prison.”

 

Taeyong swallowed hard. He’d heard this story so many times, he didn’t need to listen. He didn’t need to know about Nakamoto Yuta, or his story that sounded so harrowing when the facts were laid out. He knew the story inside out, he knew what happened to Nakamoto Yuta better than anyone else did.

 

But he listened anyway.

 

“When Yuta was under trial, it was looking unlikely that he was going to be imprisoned,” Doyoung continued. “But Hansol provided a fatal testimony, which resulted in his life sentence.” 

 

“So why is he looking for him?” Yukhei questioned again, frowning down at the picture.

 

Doyoung hesitated, so Taeyong answered for him. “Killers only go back to their loved ones for two things – sympathy or revenge.” He turned around in his seat to look Yukhei dead in the eye. “Which do you think is more likely?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, thanks for reading! i'll try and have the next chapter up sometime in the next few weeks :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuta wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe a surge of sudden, passionate emotion – happiness, sadness, or anger. But, in the same way he had dealt with his problems for the last couple of years, he felt nothing. Hollow. Empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys! i'm so sorry for taking so long to upload, i've had a lot of personal issues recently. however, i'm now on summer break so updates should be more regular! enjoy the chapter!

Jaehyun’s hands were shaking. He tried to pretend that they weren’t, but he was certain that Doyoung had noticed. It was as if his body had finally registered what he was doing, what a group of police officers were doing. Although he figured his nerves were holding up pretty well so far, it was hard to ignore the fact that in the two seats behind him sat two of the most dangerous criminals he’d ever have to come across. One, an assassin, the other, the right-hand member of one of Seoul’s most feared gangs.

 

Internally, he wondered how he was supposed to carry out investigations with these people. This wasn’t even supposed to be an investigation – finding Nakamoto Yuta, as far as Jaehyun was aware, wasn’t on their agenda, because he was supposed to arrive at the church like everyone else had. 

 

Apparently, Yuta was good at blending in, good at faking a natural smile, and his Korean was so fluent that you would assume he was native. And to make matters worse, they had no idea where he was. 

 

Jaehyun supressed a shudder, before glancing up at the building in front of him. He thought he recognised the building – he’d been called to many incidents in this area before. It was a nightclub, pretty rundown, with the illuminated sign flickering against the darkening sky, and trash scattered around the doorway like a morbid bed of flowers.

 

Doyoung had told the group that Ji Hansol, Nakamoto’s ex, had gone off the grid since Nakamoto Yuta had been sentenced. Nobody really knew where he was, but Taeyong had an idea of where to start tracing his whereabouts, in a very mysterious Taeyong-like way.

 

At first, Jaehyun was apprehensive – how did Taeyong know that Yuta would be looking for Hansol, and how did he know where to start finding Hansol? But Jaehyun was quickly remembering not to question Taeyong’s methods, because Taeyong was almost always right.

 

So, that’s how he ended up standing in front of the dirty, dingy nightclub, accompanied by his fellow police officers, and two criminals. 

 

Taeyong had been the last person to climb out of the car, and he clapped Doyoung and Jaehyun on their backs, beaming brightly at Doyoung’s death glare. “We have an hour to find out as much information on Ji Hansol and his whereabouts as we can,” he announced to the group, his gaze sweeping over them, before settling on the criminals. “Can you do that?”

 

From behind him, Jaehyun heard Yukhei scoff before moving forwards to push past the officers. “I’ll take care of everything, you just handle the aftermath,” he claimed, turning back to them with a lazy grin plastered across his face. “Things tend to get messy when I’m involved.”

 

Jaehyun glanced back at Johnny, who merely rolled his eyes but nodded, following Yukhei. Taeyong’s smile widened further, and he twisted round to face Doyoung and Jaehyun. “Doyoung, go with Johnny. Jaehyun and I will go with Yukhei,” he ordered. Jaehyun felt a wave of annoyance wash over him – technically, he was the superior officer, being a superintendent and all – but really, he didn’t know what to do in this situation, so he brushed off his annoyance as quickly as it arrived, and nodded in agreement.

 

They walked towards the entrance, and Taeyong reached the door first, holding it open for the others. As Jaehyun stepped through the doorway, he met Taeyong’s gaze. For a moment, it was like time had stopped, and they’d gone back in time to four years ago, and the both of them, with Doyoung, were young police officers again, full of life and passion, and Mark and Donghyuck –

 

Doyoung cleared his throat behind Jaehyun, before pushing past. Jaehyun felt his face flush momentarily, until he saw that Taeyong’s cheeks were a similar colour. The shorter man smiled ruefully, before urging him through the door.

 

By the time they were stood in the dusty hallway, Johnny and Doyoung had already left, and Yukhei looked like he was itching to go. “They went that way,” he gestured vaguely towards the left, where there was another corridor that lead to a set of stairs. Taeyong nodded.

 

“We’ll go straight ahead, then,” he decided, marching off, with Yukhei trotting behind him. The passageway they walked down was more brightly lit than the outside was, which Jaehyun was beginning to think of as a cover-up, to look unsuspecting. 

 

Nevertheless, he wasn’t surprised to see henchmen flanking each doorway of a private room as they entered the corridor, with other people, mostly women who probably worked there, loitering, trying to appear inconspicuous. The look on Yukhei’s face when he saw them was one of child-like joy and wander. 

 

They were immediately spotted by a bald man in a suit, who started marching towards them with an authorative air about him. Realistically, Jaehyun hadn’t been expecting to get past them unnoticed, but he was really beginning to doubt if Taeyong knew what he was doing.

 

He felt himself coming close to panic as the man ahead of them called out, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed right now.” His tone was casual, but from years of practice, Jaehyun could hear the underlying defence in his voice. Jaehyun could only feel ashamed by how fast his heart was beating – confrontations like this never threw him, but now his hands were sweating the way they were when he asked a guy out for the first time in middle school.

 

Taeyong, as per usual, seemed unfazed. “How are we going to deal with this?” He asked, but he didn’t seem to be talking to Jaehyun. “Our way? Or your way?” He looked across Jaehyun to make eye contact with Yukhei, who had stopped walking but was bouncing in place. Jaehyun couldn’t tell if he was warming up or just excited. He didn’t know which option was worse.

 

Yukhei went dead still at Taeyong’s question, and stared at him with wide eyes, obviously still processing his question. After a moment, he grinned wickedly. “My way, of course.”

 

Obviously, Jaehyun had known that Yukhei was a good fighter – he hadn’t been sentenced for nothing – but the sheer speed of the young man’s fists took his breath away. And, presumably, the guy’s who had just been jabbed in the stomach too.

 

Yukhei had clearly not been going in for the kill, because the guy doubled over in pain but didn’t fall, weakly batting at Yukhei, trying to get a grip on his arm. Jaehyun’s officer instincts were kicking in, fidgeting nervously as he fought not to screw up Taeyong’s plan. Yukhei clearly didn’t know what the plan was, but he knew what his role was – the bulldozer to get them to the end of the corridor.

 

Ever all-knowing, Taeyong seemed to sense Jaehyun’s apprehension, and lay a hand on the small of his old partner’s back. Jaehyun managed to resist the urge to flinch at the feeling, but almost jumped out of his skin when Yukhei swung his arm and knocked the bald man into the wall, shattering a nearby light.

 

If the previous commotion hadn’t drawn any attention, people were definitely stirring now. The women grabbed onto each other, pushing through a doorway, seemingly calm despite the situation. Jaehyun guessed that this was protocol, and it wasn’t the first time they’d seen someone attempting to get answers, or money, from the bosses of this nightclub.

 

The henchman who’d been guarding each doorway suddenly stepped into action, and for a moment Jaehyun was fearful, his heart banging against his ribcage. Then he watched Yukhei plough through a group of lackies, and his nerves settled somewhat. He started at the thought – he was feeling comforted by the apparent fact that his new teammate and colleague could take down five, seemingly trained men, without breaking a sweat.

 

While the men lay on the ground, writhing in pain, Yukhei turned back to the police officers, with a bright smile across his face. It made him look his age – 19, fresh out of school and into the world. Not so much like the kid who ended up in jail for more offences than most wannabe gangsters could dream of.

 

Someone clearing their throat made Yukhei spin around, immediately coming face-to-face with a man at least four inches taller than him. This time, Jaehyun didn’t have time to be afraid (for Yukhei? Or because of Yukhei? He still wasn’t entirely sure), as Yukhei headbutted the guy, hard, and landed a hit that made even Taeyong wince. The man collapsed, and Yukhei quickly stepped on his shoulder, in one smooth motion, to stop him from getting back up.

 

“I need to see your boss,” He said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just beaten up six people. Jaehyun felt mildly alarmed that the gangster didn’t sound even slightly out of breath, but decided not to dwell on it. The man on the ground said nothing, but spat in Yukhei’s face in response. 

 

Before Yukhei could retaliate, a door to one of the private rooms opened, and a short, weaselly-looking man stepped out, trying to seem commanding, but immediately crumpling when he saw the disarray of the corridor.

 

Taeyong stepped forwards, standing just behind Yukhei. His stance was casual, informal like any ordinary club-goer, but you’d have to be unusually ignorant to miss his threatening presence. “Are you in charge here?” he asked. “We need some details on one of your previous employees.”

 

“I – I can’t give you any details,” the boss spluttered, hanging onto the door handle. “That’s confidential.” Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. For a nightclub that was so obviously infested with illicit activities, the boss wasn’t much of a threat. He wondered why the henchmen hadn’t overthrown him, but his best guess was that the pay was relatively good, and they also probably hadn’t figured out that they could be in charge.

 

Sighing loudly, Taeyong nudged Yukhei with his shoe. In such a short amount of time, they seemed to have already figured out how to read each other’s subliminal messages, Jaehyun mused, watching as Yukhei sprang up from the still-downed henchman, to punch the boss, who was at least a foot shorter than Yukhei, knocking him back into the private room.

 

At that moment, Jaehyun’s phone rang, making him jolt slightly, before scrambling to pick it up. “Hello?”

 

“Ji Hansol used to work there as a male escort,” Doyoung didn’t bother with greetings, instead choosing to delve straight into the information he’d gathered. That was normal for Doyoung, Jaehyun had discovered through the years. He took the phone away from his ear, and put it on speaker phone for Taeyong, and Yukhei too, to hear. “He was in quite a lot of debt after Nakamoto Yuta was jailed, so he ended up getting transferred to another nightclub. But, he managed to pay off his debt and he dropped out of their system a few months back.”

 

This news made Taeyong curse loudly, and Jaehyun sighed, frustrated. “So?” He prompted. “Where was he last seen?”

 

“Busan,” came Doyoung’s reply. “Near Yeonje-gu, but we’re not sure if he stayed in the same area. Johnny thinks he knows someone who can help, an old contact of his that owes him a favour. If we’re lucky, he might know something about Ji Hansol’s current whereabouts.”

 

“Moving is expensive, and if he just paid off his debts, he’s unlikely to be getting away soon,” Taeyong reasoned. He pulled Yukhei away from the nightclub boss, with surprising strength, and clapped him on the shoulder, before smiling in a simpering, sweet way. “Thank you so much for your co-operation. We’ll make sure to mention it when we report this nightclub to the police for human sex worker trafficking.”

 

With that, Taeyong spun on his heel, grabbed Yukhei’s arm, snatched Jaehyun’s hand, and waltzed away down the corridor, leaving everyone, including Jaehyun and presumably Yukhei, dazed and confused.

 

Once outside the nightclub, Taeyong heaved a sigh of relief, before turning to his dumbfounded partners. “I just love a dramatic exit, don’t you?” He smiled brightly, and sauntered towards the car, where Doyoung and Johnny sat inside.

 

For a moment, neither Jaehyun nor Yukhei moved. Then, Yukhei leant forwards, speaking directly into Jaehyun’s ear. “Is he always like this?”

 

Jaehyun couldn’t even give a reply.

 

-

Yuta hadn’t been in Busan for a long time. He remembered visiting to Busan when he first moved to South Korea with his parents, and they’d looked at apartments there. They didn’t buy one. He couldn’t remember why. But, he knew they had preferred the streets in the outskirts of Seoul. It didn’t really matter now, though.

He didn’t particularly recognise the store he was in. The lights were too bright, and the flashing neon signs were beginning to irritate him. But he wouldn’t have to stay there for much longer, because Ji Hansol had bought what he needed – a single bottle of water and some ready-made sushi – and was leaving.

 

It hadn’t been hard to find him – he always left very obvious clues. All Yuta had had to do was go to his old next-door neighbour, feign a smile for the old lady who obviously couldn’t remember who Yuta was, and ask her sweetly where Hansol was now living. Hansol must have been extremely fond of this lady, because she’d been told every detail of where he was now living, right down to his new room number.

 

He knew exactly where to go. Room 018, Hana Apartment. So, he waited for him there.

 

Hansol had never been the most self-aware person. Though, Yuta supposed that Hansol never thought he would see his ex again, especially not this soon after the trial. Still, Yuta would have expected at least a furtive glance from him, especially since Yuta was just loitering in the corner of the hallway, not trying very hard to seem inconspicuous. (So what if Hansol saw him? All Hansol would be able to do is call the police, and seeing as the police were the ones who essentially set him free, he didn’t think that they would be much help at all.)

 

Still, Yuta waited for Hansol to enter his apartment and presumably settle down, before going to ring the doorbell. While he was on the train to Busan, he’d practised what he was going to say in order for Hansol to let him in. But even years of practice wouldn’t have prepared him for hearing Hansol’s voice again for this first time in two years.

 

“Who is it?” Hansol called. Yuta faltered. He didn’t speak. “Who is it?” Hansol called again, louder, more annoyed.

 

“I’m a maintenance worker,” Yuta managed to reply. He’d had a lot more rehearsed than that, but the words stuck in his throat. He turned his focus to making his accent sound more like the local one, having picked it up while he was in the city centre and train station.

 

He heard Hansol groan, and his feet heavily hitting the floor as he presumably stood up from his bed, or a chair.

 

Yuta assumed that any other person would be having heart palpitations in this moment – this person used to be the most important person in his life. But he had been betrayed by him, and virtually by his own mind as well.

 

So, Yuta’s heart didn’t knock against his ribs – he just waited, head down, hands clasped behind his back, for Hansol to reach the door. But Hansol paused, very briefly. The next time he heard him move, he was answering his phone.

 

“Hello? Who is it?” Yuta could hear the locks of the door being opened. He could guess who the person speaking on the other end of the phone was, probably the uptight police officer who had asked him to join their ‘program’ and set him free. “Yes, this is Ji Hansol speaking. What do you want? Why are you asking about Yu –“

 

The door was opened. Yuta stepped back just a fraction, still keeping his face hidden, before slowly lifting his head to make eye contact with his ex-boyfriend.

 

Yuta wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe a surge of sudden, passionate emotion – happiness, sadness, or anger. But, in the same way he had dealt with his problems for the last couple of years, he felt nothing. Hollow. Empty.

Hansol’s reaction was different. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, his hand which had been holding his phone to his ear dropped. For a moment, Yuta simply watched as his ex gasped for breath, stumbling back into his apartment.

 

“It’s been a long time,” he said softly, stepping into the apartment. The phone was still connected to the call, and Yuta reached out for the phone, Hansol letting it slip through his fingers in his shocked state. Briefly, Yuta considered sending a vaguely threatening message to the police department, but thought better of it, and simply ended the call.

 

He slipped the phone into his back pocket, and closed the door gently, before taking a step towards Hansol, who immediately scrambled backwards. Glancing around the apartment, Yuta chose to sit down on a seat near the glass door, which opened onto a small balcony, so he could see into the streets below for any potential danger.

 

Hansol didn’t seem to be faring as well – he simply slumped next to his bed, his eyes never leaving Yuta’s form. Yuta tucked his hands into his pockets and crossed his legs, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, but logically, he didn’t think that it would have any effect on the man.

 

Minutes ticked by before either of them spoke. “How – How did you know I was here?”

 

“You’re bad at covering your tracks,” Yuta replied, sitting as still as he could. He didn’t know if that was more or less unnerving for Hansol, but after his answer, Yuta decided that he didn’t care.

 

“Unlike you?” Hansol seemed to jolt at his own words, as if he was scared to say them, but quickly gained courage. “Your tracks were so well covered because you couldn’t even remember committing the crimes, could you?”

Yuta had forgotten what it was like to have emotion flashing through his body, so he couldn’t quite give a name to what he was feeling. But he knew he was feeling something, and it definitely wasn’t positive. So, he didn’t answer.

 

This seemed to anger Hansol. “You really don’t remember, do you? How could you not remember killing all of those people?” He took a moment to breathe, before continuing. “You probably don’t even remember trying to kill me.” He spat the words as if they were poison.

 

Yuta leant forwards, staring straight into Hansol’s eyes. He still couldn’t put a label on his feelings, but it was intense. “I really, really don’t remember anything.”

 

Hansol let out a bark of humourless laughter, his fear making him bold. “That’s why you’re crazy! That’s why you’re a psychopath, don’t you get it?”

 

“Why don’t you trust me? Why didn’t you trust me?” Yuta asked quietly. “I never killed anyone. I don’t know how many times I told you.”

 

“Yes, you did.” Hansol was shaking now, his eyes glossy with tears. He sat up straighter, but still pressed himself against his bed. “Since… that incident, you can barely remember things that happened even an hour ago.” He shook his head vigorously. “How could I trust you? How could anyone trust you?”

 

“Because I didn’t do it,” Yuta tried, realising how feeble his argument was. Because he couldn’t even trust himself. There was no proof against him, yet there was no proof for him. No matter how many times he told people he was a trauma-suffering amnesiac, there was no-one who believed him. Because his weakness made him an easy target. Many nights he’d laid awake, trying desperately to recall the memories of those nights.

 

But that was in the past. He’d given up trying. He slid from his seat, crouching in front of Hansol, who’s brave façade immediately cracked. As if he had no control over his own body, his hand found a home, wrapped around the base of Hansol’s neck.

 

Hansol made a strange garbled noise, but made no attempt to pry Yuta’s hands off him. “If you kill me, you should remember it.” His voice was breathless, and he was obviously getting lightheaded, yet he wouldn’t back down from this challenge. Yuta could remember that he had always been like that. Not that it mattered now.

 

He could feel his blood flowing in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Then,” he said, his voice ever-so-soft, “let’s die together.”

 

He didn’t plan for this. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t remember what his plan was. He knew that he had to see Hansol, but he couldn’t remember why. But, he knew it wasn’t for this.

 

It seemed as if he would have to go on improvising, as he heard his name being shouted from the hallway outside Hansol’s apartment. “Nakamoto Yuta, are you in there? We’re looking for you.” The voice didn’t sound worried, or nervous, or on edge. Just bored, and perhaps slightly amused.

 

Yuta didn’t have much time to answer, even though he wasn’t going to, as the next thing he heard was the handle being shot off the door. Amidst the deafening sound and smell of smoke, Yuta managed to contemplate on the unnecessary force of the action, and the cost of a new door handle for Hansol. It was inconvenient, if nothing else.

 

The door was opened with force, and in the doorway stood a brunette-haired man that Yuta thought he recognised. He couldn’t put a name to a face, however, his attention more focused on the revolver in the man’s hands. Beside him stood another police officer, with dark black hair, that Yuta definitely knew, and another unfamiliar man, several inches taller than Yuta, and would probably be very intimidating if Yuta actually cared. 

 

“Hey buddy, there you are.” The brunette officer spoke, his tone so condescending it would’ve annoyed Yuta if Yuta was like any other person. The officer cocked his head, a smile on his lips as he assessed the situation. “What, are you going to try and kill him? You’ll be in a lot of trouble if you do.”

 

Yuta didn’t move, but he very slowly released his grip on Hansol’s neck, keeping his hand as still as he could as not to alert anyone. He could feel Hansol’s eyes on him, flashing curiously. He didn’t know why he’d let go, and neither did Yuta. He couldn’t explain it, but his heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten before, and he didn’t want Hansol to be taken away from him again. They either died together, or not at all.

 

The brunette officer seemed to become impatient, as he waved his gun at Yuta. “If you get shot, it will hurt pretty badly. But, if you move away from him now, you don’t have to get shot.” He took one step forwards. “Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

 

Yuta didn’t say anything, but he turned his head to look at Hansol. He was breathing regularly now, but was staring at Yuta with an unreadable look in his eyes. Yuta didn’t call himself an expert on people and their emotions, but he felt that there was something more to Hansol’s rant than anger. He felt like there was something that had been left unsaid, by either one of them.

 

But he didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t have time to ponder over it, either, because he heard the officer with the gun groan loudly, before announcing that they were going to do it the hard way. When Yuta heard the gun click, his instincts set in, and he propelled himself forwards, so his hands hit the bed, his arms encasing Hansol’s head. The other detective shouted something that he couldn’t quite hear, before he felt the bullet pierce his arm, and lodge itself in there.

 

The pain never set in, because all Yuta could see was Hansol’s worried face. He couldn’t tell if he was worried for his own safety or Yuta’s safety, but he didn’t care. He touched his forehead to Hansol’s briefly, wishing he could apologise sincerely, before pulling himself away from the bed, and stumbling to get up. Without even thinking, he dragged himself to the open glass door and onto the balcony, and with as much force as he could, threw himself off.

 

He’d never felt such euphoria because of a car being parked outside, as he landed on its roof heavily. After a moment of gathering his surroundings, he rolled off the roof of the car onto the road, narrowly avoiding getting hit by another car. 

 

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard one of the police officers shout over the balcony. “Yukhei! That’s Nakamoto Yuta!” He spared a glance behind him, to see that further up the street was a tall, blonde-haired person that Yuta hesitated to describe as a ‘man’, because of his youthful appearance.

 

There was no time to dwell on the matter of this Yukhei’s age, though, because he quickly realised he was the prey in this situation as the policemen’s accomplice began to run. He shook his head violently, to clear the ringing, and pulled himself to his feet. The man in the car that almost hit him opened his door, beginning to ask if he was okay, but Yuta never gave him a chance to finish his sentence. He gripped onto the door, swung himself into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door shut.

 

Yuta couldn’t remember if he’d ever gotten his driver’s license, but he decided that he would worry about that at a later date. He shifted the car into a higher gear, and stepped on the accelerator, driving down the street, away from Yukhei.

 

He found himself surprised, that no matter how hard he hit the gas, Yukhei was never too far behind. His heart rate increased further when he heard a car horn, and saw from his rear-view mirror that Yukhei had swerved out of the way to let another car through. He cursed to himself, and swivelled the steering wheel in a way that made the car travel down a narrow alleyway, losing the other car in the process. He hadn’t planned an escape route when he’d arrived at Hansol’s apartment, which was a rookie mistake, but he hadn’t been anticipating a car chase.

 

There were several close calls with pedestrians, as they scrambled to get out of the way, but their safety wasn’t his priority. There was one boy, maybe 12 years old, on a bike. Beginning to feel frustrated, Yuta used the horn of the car, trying to alert him to get out of the way. As soon as he made the noise, he regretted it, because he figured out just a moment too late, that any loud noise would give away his whereabouts.

 

He didn’t have time to curse himself out, because the other car, which had been chasing him, smashed into him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He felt his upper-body lurch forwards, banging his head onto the dashboard. He groaned, trying to sit up but ultimately failing, hunching over with his hands over his head, in an attempt to protect himself. The ringing in his ears was back, and he could feel blood running down the side of his face.

 

He could barely open his eyes, but through the bleariness of his vision, he saw two figures. The one closest to him spoke. “Nice to meet you, Yuta.” Then, a fist collided with his face, and everything went black.

 

-

The hospital room was light and airy – white walls, white sheets, open windows and a vase of flowers on the beside table. Yuta supposed it would be quite a nice room to stay in, if he wasn’t handcuffed to the bed.

 

The officers had left him there, giving him time to heal, and to also make a decision. The officer he knew he had seen before, Inspector Kim, had already made the mission pitch to him, and he had agreed with no real intent of complying. This time, they’d sent Detective Lee to him, the other officer he thought he recognised, to give a rundown of what they wanted him to do.

 

He knew that this officer meant business when the first thing he said after sitting down was; “Don’t be mad at me because I shot you. The situation was bad, I had to pull the trigger.” Yuta didn’t react, just blinked.

 

Detective Lee had sighed, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands. “You got the details from Doyou – I mean, Inspector Kim, right? If you want to join us, use this phone to contact us.” With that, he had pulled out a flip phone from his pocket, that probably came out in the early ‘00s. Yuta wasn’t picky, though – at least he had a phone.

 

Just as Detective Lee was about to stand, he had paused, making Yuta look at him quizzically. He had taken a deep breath, before speaking. “You don’t remember me, do you?” That had stirred Yuta, and he shifted slightly, but made no effort to respond. He hated it, not being able to remember. It made him look – and feel – weak. The detective seemed uncomfortable, wringing his hands together. “My full name is Lee Taeyong. Ring any bells?” His previous cool, confident, casual attitude seemed to have disappeared, and he looked like a trembling schoolboy in front of the principal. 

 

Yuta had inclined his head slightly. He DID recognise the name, and his face – but he had no idea about who the man was, or had been, to him. It didn’t seem like he was going to find out either, as the detective just nodded his head quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Think about the offer. You have 12 hours to decide.”

 

That had been 6 hours ago. It was time to come to a conclusion. He had been in deep thought, since the officer left, but felt no closer to an answer. It had many advantages for him – he would essentially be free, would be able to talk to others, see the world again, and actually have something to do for once. On the other hand, he would have to follow rules.

 

But, he decided, how hard would that be?

 

He picked up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please feel free to leave any comments.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i will try and have another chapter up soon. please leave constructive criticism, comments, or kudos!


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